


Control

by summoner_yuna_of_besaid



Series: Best Destinies [11]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, M/M, The Galileo Seven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoner_yuna_of_besaid/pseuds/summoner_yuna_of_besaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You plan on being the one to stay behind don’t you?"</p>
<p>"It is only logical."</p>
<p>“Damn logic, Spock!  There’s no way a single one of us is leaving this planet and letting someone stay behind – and I sure as hell won’t leave without you!”</p>
<p>Leonard leapt on him, hands cupping his cheeks too tightly, mouth sealing shut over Spock’s so quickly and violently their teeth clacked together awkwardly.  Spock stood in stunned horror and exhilaration, hardly able to believe what was occurring, and yet also disgusted by the act, and yet… interested, at least somewhat, in its continuance?</p>
<p>Fascinating!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Set during and after "The Galileo Seven".

No matter how many times he came close to losing them it never stopped hurting when Jim found himself standing between his duties and his friends.

He could not abandon them. Though he knew he was to blame, though he realized that thousands of people were depending on the cure his ship was carrying, he couldn’t forsake them yet. Jim didn’t think he could ever forsake them - be forced to let them go perhaps. But inside he would never be able to let them go.

A dozen lost chances danced before his eyes - why had he never told either of them the truth of his feelings? Why had he kept his love to himself? Now they might never know. Now they might be dead.

Jim refused to believe it. They just had to be okay. No other outcome was acceptable.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Though it was an uncomfortable thought, Spock accepted his death as the mostly like outcome of the mission.

Should they manage to make the shuttle workable again there was still too much weight between all of them to make it fly; as senior officer it fell to him to stay behind. He did not think any of the humans would care. They did not like him - it was illogical but true that humans tended to allow disapproval of a course of action to shift to the person taking the action. In addition to misunderstanding his own Vulcan culture of internalizing and controlling emotion to having none, led all of them to find him cold and uncaring. 

He didn’t care to correct them in their assumptions of him. Spock had found that ignorance was rarely cured even by direct reproach, for it was too strikingly imbedded in the mind. He would be dead soon anyway.

It irked him that his control was weakening in the face of that fact. He snapped at a crew member earlier and could not keep the ire from his voice. A Vulcan should be at peace with death when death is the only logical option. It should not cause him pain.

Standing he approached the back of the ship and heard someone standing to follow. "Spock."

Irritation grew though Spock tried to hold it down - and something somber, almost mournful, as well. Spock grew angry at himself for mourning, and angrier still for being angry, but in his current mental state found he could not repress it. Instead, he turned his furious gaze towards Bones.

The doctor was examining him, frustration and concern in his narrowed gaze. "You plan on being the one to stay behind don’t you?"

The Vulcan found himself watching the doctor’s lips; the way they stretched around words, how they pressed together in a firm furious line. He was a dead man. Was there not a human tradition of having a passionate last night on earth?

But he was not human, and though he may have, for half a second, considered it, they had no time, and allowing emotions to overtake him in the last moments of his life would be an insult to everything he had ever done, all he had tried to be during his life.

“It is only logical.”

“Damn logic, Spock!” The doctor cursed viciously, taking the Vulcan back at the tone. He had expected the doctor to be against any plan which included the sacrifice of one team member, but this was not a doctor acting in concern for one of his crewmen, out of a vested interest in life. No, it was much too… passionate for that. “There’s no way a single one of us is leaving this planet and letting someone stay behind – and I sure as hell won’t leave without you!”

Cocking an eyebrow in his usual fashion, Spock tucked his arms behind his back. “And what would you propose doctor? That every member of the team die in an illogical, human expression of defiance?”

“I don’t know, okay? You’re the leader you figure it out!” McCoy, cheeks flushed, jabbed a finger into Spock’s chest. “But I’m not leaving anyone behind, especially not you!”

Both Spock’s eyebrows went skyward, and he stared in fascination as the doctor’s eyes widened and his blush tripled. How intriguing. It did in fact seem that this was Leonard McCoy, the person, insisting that Spock live, and not McCoy the CMO doing his duty as an officer. This must have meant that McCoy had a vested personal interest in Spock’s safety which meant – which meant he cared.

Fascinating.

The doctor, cowed, slumped at the shoulders, looking away, and Spock could not help but watch as the man’s tongue danced over his dry lips. Then, the human seemed to nod to himself, fiery eyes drifting back to Spock – and Leonard leapt on him, hands cupping his cheeks too tightly, mouth sealing shut over Spock’s so quickly and violently their teeth clacked together awkwardly. Spock stood in stunned horror and exhilaration, hardly able to believe what was occurring, and yet also disgusted by the act, and yet… interested, at least somewhat, in its continuance?

Fascinating!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was not the best kiss Leonard McCoy ever had. Granted, it had been years since he’d been able to practice, and he’d never kissed a tight-ass like Spock, who stood stiffly with his lips pursed, refusing to part them – and then Leonard remembered that this was Spock, and why hadn’t the Vulcan flown into a rage and killed him yet, or at least tossed him away?

He realized that Spock, in his emotionally repressed state, was probably repulsed by the action but unwilling to exhibit an emotional display to stop it. Which meant – Leonard was forcing himself on the man! This might be the last mission they ever had together, this might be the death of both of them, but Leonard McCoy was a gentleman and he was not going to force himself on anybody. 

So he pulled away – only for two blistering hot hands to fly out and grab his shoulders, roughly tugging him back in. It was too rough; they collided, and Leonard bit his lip by mistake, but in the next instance their lips were touching again, and this time Spock seemed to be trying to copy Leonard’s actions. He moved his lips, and Leonard moaned against him. It was one of the most inexperienced, painful, rough kisses he’d ever had, but it was wonderful because it was with Spock.

Christ on a cracker… he was kissing Spock!

It ended almost as soon as it began, with both men shoving away from the other, moving apart fast like they’d caught fire. Bones met Spock’s eyes and saw swirling within them more emotion than he’d ever seen: fear, hope, misery, and a specific kind of horror McCoy knew well. The kind that existed in most every inexperienced lover who’d first been touched by the fires of passion; he’d seen it in dozens of young, experimenting officers who weren’t sure how to start, or what to do. But this… it was more than that. The Vulcan seemed honestly horrified that they’d kissed, even though McCoy knew he liked it and that wasn’t just because the man had a tent in his pants. 

Spock lifted a trembling hand towards his face, but caught himself midway and forced the limb down to his side. He straightened his shirt, stood tall again; all composed Vulcan except for the swelling which had begun in his lips, and the slight green tint to his cheeks. Even the… problem… he’d had a moment ago seemed to have dissipated. Damn Vulcan control over their every bodily function. McCoy didn’t have that kind of luck.

Spock stormed away without a word, fleeing the ship, leaving McCoy dazed with heady passion and a throbbing in his uniform pants, slumped against the wall.

Spock… Spock had kissed him back. Holy God, they had honestly made out like two horny teenagers in the back of the ship, only meters away from where Scotty was toiling on repairs. And Spock had liked it.

Now if only they could survive this, get back to the ship and explore this further!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Jim Kirk sat on the bridge, impatiently waiting responses from the away teams, drumming a beat on the arm of his chair. There was nothing he could do, and he hated that; being so useless when the people he loved where in danger.

He did love them, though he rarely admitted it to himself. Love was a luxury, a distraction, no Starfleet Captain could afford. Lust was bad enough. It drove the mind wild, distracted and made complications, but Jim couldn’t go without. He’d tried, once. The bridge crew had never understood why their usually mild tempered captain had spent a week yelling at them for absolutely nothing. When Bones had found out why he was so grumpy, he’d told him to fix it, in no uncertain terms.

But love was a different beast, something that could not be satiated. If Spock and Bones died… Jim would be beside himself. He wasn’t sure he could recover. One would have been bad enough, but both? At the same time? He’d be desolate. 

That was what upset him, and frightened him in equal terms: how dependent he was upon the both of them. Oh Jim knew he needed them to lead, that they both served in valuable capacities on the ship, and that as friends they bolstered his strength, but this was more than that. He needed them to breathe, to live, to function. Without them he would crash and burn and the Enterprise might go with him.

Jim had worked hard not to be dependent on anyone. Tarsus had taught him that relying on anyone, even respected elders who were supposed to watch over you was folly. Relying upon the guidance of adults in the colony had almost gotten him killed. It was the adults who had refused to see the truth, refused to realize sooner what Kodos was doing, refused to act. And when the adults were dead, the children were next. No, Jim had no one to rely upon on Tarsus.

On Tarsus, he had stood up and taken it upon himself to survive, and from then forward swore he would be reliant on no one. It didn’t work; Finnegan, Gary, Ruth, Carol… throughout his years at the academy and the early part of his Starfleet career, he’d flitted from person to person, become dependent upon them.

Finnegan had been first: a classmate, a rough and tumble friend, who had eagerly introduced Kirk to the stranger and wilder aspects of sex he’d never known he wanted. Some of them he didn’t – but that didn’t matter. What Finnegan wanted, he got. Kirk had quickly learned denying him just led to more pain, emotional or otherwise.

Then came Carol in the aftermath, the woman he’d clung to, who had seen his wounds and bandaged them, held him through nightmares, caressed him. She hadn’t been domineering like Finnegan, but she’d taken control in another way – he’d become emotionally dependent upon her, the comfort she gave him a drug, but he did not really love her. When she’d told him she was pregnant, that she wanted him to stay and marry her… the shock and repulsion that rose in him at the idea had shocked him.

So he’d left, and had never seen her again. Then he’d met Gary in the service, and for a time followed in his shadow, looked up to him for guidance, hoped beyond hope that Gary would make things easier, Gary would make things okay… but Gary had been more like Finnegan than Kirk had supposed. No, they never had sex, they were just friends, but Gary had a habit of ignoring when Kirk didn’t want to do something or go somewhere – he didn’t know the meaning of no.

Ruth had been a fling during shore leave, one he had thrown himself into with abandon, spending a whole week in her bed, so desperate not to be alone he swore to quit the service and stay with her; only to wake on the fifth day and find her gone. Sometimes he wondered if he’d scared her off with his sudden, lightning-fast devotion, or if she’d planned to love and leave him all along.

Experience told Kirk that allowing people in, giving them control, was a huge mistake. In lovemaking, the person in control was the one who didn’t get hurt. All his dalliances with women, he was in control: the one hitting on them, the one propositioning them, the one taking the lead. And when he left in the end, they were the ones hurt by it, because they had let him in. But Jim would be okay, because these quick flings never reached his heart. They fulfilled a need, a bodily function, but they couldn’t hurt him because he never allowed them to.

But despite his insistence never to become attached again, the distance he had placed between himself and others, the lofty heights to which he aspired to keep his captaincy, Spock and Bones had wormed their way in.

And here he was, being derelict in duty, letting love rule him – being controlled.

Yet he could not bring himself to stop.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

When the Enterprise beamed them back aboard the ship, McCoy was so happy he almost leapt for joy and kissed Spock again. He held himself in check; glancing at the Vulcan, who was quickly making his way towards the bridge, the doctor found he was doubtful such an exchange would happen again.

He’d been a fool to think that just because Spock kissed him back in a rare moment of emotional compromise, Spock had truly desired him. Maybe he’d been acting on instinct, or maybe he’d needed the touch to ground himself during such a hard moment – McCoy didn’t know. What he did know was that Spock was being even more distant than usual.

It had been stupid to think Spock really wanted him, the doctor thought, grumbling under his breath as he went back to sick bay. He chided his foolishness at getting his hopes up for many hours as he worked, until the end of the midday shift when the door to his office opened, revealing Spock.

Leonard leapt to his feet, shocked and horrified, hands trembling at his sides. Was Spock here to discipline him for sexual harassment? Was this a dressing down? Had he told the captain? Worse and worse explanations swam through his dizzy head as he nodded to his superior officer. Surprisingly, the worse thought was: what if I’ve ruined what little friendship and trust there was between us?

He didn’t know; he could only stand and watch as Spock, in his usual peaceful control, approached his desk.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Spock watched Leonard fidget behind his desk, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, and found to his surprise that the sight was… endearing. It was not a thought he had ever had about a sentient being, outside of his pet sehlat, and only contemplated it for a moment before deciding it was inappropriate to think of.

The human variant of the ‘kiss’ which he and the doctor had shared had lasted a total of thirteen point four seconds, and yet despite its brevity Spock had found himself thinking of little else when he had not been concerned with his duties. At strange, inopportune moments during his work, he would suddenly remember the stifled moan rumbling in McCoy’s throat, or the way the doctor’s wet lips felt molded against his own, and would be forced to take a moment to meditate the thoughts away. It was… irresponsible, to be so concerned with a bodily function he did not have time for.

Spock did care for McCoy, he – he found him aesthetically pleasing. Their banter was intellectually stimulating, and though the doctor could be coarser than Spock cared for, often he was adept and insightful, a valuable addition to the mission. Spock… valued Leonard. And in a small, secret part of himself where emotion flourished he felt something, an unnamable fondness, for him.

But succumbing to physical desires was a human weakness, and Spock did not have physical desires. It shamed him that he had so easily given into Leonard, had reacted when he should have pushed him away and continued working. As A Vulcan, he did not need to mate for pleasure, and hopefully would never be saddled with the mating drive of his full-blooded brethren. 

So he had come to inform Leonard that such a lapse in control would never happen again. Only, the doctor was blushing, and biting his lip, warm eyes staring directly at Spock’s, and the Vulcan knew that the doctor’s pulse was rising.

A few concerns flitted through Spock’s mind. On the shuttle, Leonard had seemed to care for him, to be invested in his safety. It did not seem to be the kiss based in passionate, aimlessly directed; it was love, furiously shared. Leonard had what humans would call “feelings” for him.

For a brief instance something flared alive in Spock, but the Vulcan shoved it down viciously. Whether or not Bones had “feelings” for him, Spock was Vulcan. Spock did not have feelings.

“I…” He began to apologize, to explain. Clearing his throat, he lifted his eyes from the sweat pooling at Leonard’s throat. “I wish to apologize for the incident in the shuttle today. It was a brief lapse in my control and shall not happen again.”

The doctor’s eyes widened further, then narrowed, and the tinged to his cheeks changed from desire and embarrassment to anger, passion. “You saying that was a mistake, Spock? Because it didn’t feel like one to me.”

Spock was uncertain what that meant. In fact, he only now considered what it might meant that McCoy had initiated the kiss in the first place. A means to prove that Spock had human desires – to try and shatter his Vulcan control? A new way of pressuring him to be human and emotional? It was the doctor’s prerogative; Spock found a flush of anger surge in him he could not control. Underneath that rush, any ideas that McCoy’s reasoning had been rooted in love vanished.

“I do not appreciate being exploited, doctor; while I understand humans draw comfort from physical contact during times of extreme stress, there were five other officers aboard the ship from whom you could have achieved the same end result, who were not Vulcan. The only logical explanation in your choosing me for such a display was an attempt to elicit an emotional response, and as you have found it… sporting, to attempt to insult me and my way of life, I believe the reasoning is sound.”

More and more color came to McCoy’s cheeks, his eyes growing wider, and the trembling in his limp hands became clenched fists bristling with anger. “Now you listen here you computerized –“

“Any further attempts to harass me in such a manner, Doctor, shall be reported to the captain.” The wind fell out of the doctor’s anger, his face paling, and Spock fought the urge to smirk. “Doctor.” He inclined his head, and turned, leaving the room. He did not rush, he just… moved quickly.

The further he moved from med bay, the further his chest seemed to sink, the more it tightened. He had acted more than properly – he could have reported Leonard, and had it added to his personal record, but instead handled it in a private manner. Spock had been more than gracious. Surely now that the matter was settled, they would never have to discuss it again, and Spock would cease to be preoccupied with the instance.

Three hours later, Spock gave up meditating, furious and frustrated with his inability to clear his mind – completely fixated upon that brief, 13.4 second kiss.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Captain Kirk stood in his quarters, wearing only a towel, having just come out of the shower, when the intercom rang. “Just a minute.”

“It’s me, Jim!” 

Recognizing Bones’ voice, Jim inclined his head. “Let me put something on quick.”

“Jim, dammit just – just let me in!”

The doctor’s voice was surprisingly rough. Brow furrowed, Jim threw on a robe and approached the door. He released the lock and watched his friend storm in with – with tears running down his cheeks?

“Bones, what?”

“Nothing, Jim, I’m not –“ Hiccuping, the doctor ran a shaky hand over his hair, looking for all the world like a panicked animal. “I just – dammit I can’t –“

Jim opened his arms, didn’t say a word, just approached the doctor and Bones fell limp into his arms. He didn’t openly cry, didn’t sob, but he shook in Jim’s embrace, and the captain stood with him held tightly, rocking him like a child.

He was in control. He might be naked and holding one of his dearest loves in his arms, vulnerable and upset, but he was in control. Bones had no idea of the truth, and he never would, and neither would Spock. They were both alive, and though it looked dark at the moment, things would get better. They would go back to normal – and Jim would always be in control.

He should be happy about that, he thought, running a hand through Bones’ hair. But he couldn’t lie to himself, or ignore how his heart sank. He wasn’t happy, at all. But at least he had his precious control.


End file.
